


Married at First Sight

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Reality TV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: The concept of the show is this: a panel of experts will pair him with someone, he'll meet her at the altar, and after a month of living together, being married, they'll decide on national TV whether they want to stay married or get divorced.Historically, arranged marriages are a lot more common than love matches. Bellamy kind of thought he knew what to expect out of the whole thing.He didn't expect Clarke Griffin.





	Married at First Sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TracyLorde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TracyLorde/gifts).



> Kat said she liked arranged marriage and this took on a life of its own. Happy birthday, friend!

"You're doing _what_?"

"I feel like you heard me the first time, or you wouldn't be demanding that I repeat myself."

He can practically hear Octavia scowling over the phone, but she's the one who moved away. She doesn't get to be pissed about the decisions he makes in her absence.

"I was hoping for a little more backstory, jackass."

"It's a social experiment. This panel of-- I don't know, psychologists and sexologists and spiritual advisers or whatever reviewed all the candidates and came up with three couples. And I'm one of them."

"This is not just a social experiment, Bellamy. This is your life."

"It's not that big of a deal, O. It's just a month, and then we decide whether we want to stay married or get a divorce."

"Yeah, but I know you. You're stubborn and competitive as hell. There's no way you're going to cave after just a month."

"I don't know, if it's really bad I might. I won't know until I find out who it is."

There's a pause on the other end of the line. When Octavia comes back, her voice is calm and controlled in an eerie way.

"Are you saying you haven't even _met_ them yet?"

"Her," he corrects. "Lifetime isn't _that_ progressive. But yeah, that's the basic idea."

There's distant yelling on the other end of the line, and then Lincoln's voice comes on, a stark and sudden atmospheric change.

"Hey, Bellamy. Your sister is a little, uh--"

"Yeah, I can hear her." He scrubs a hand over his face. "You guys will be there, right? I know she thinks it's dumb--"

"...of  _course_ it's for some stupid reality TV show-- such a _drama queen_ \--"

"You're getting married to a complete stranger. On TV. We wouldn't miss it."

"Historically speaking, arranged marriages are a lot more common than marrying for love. I'm not the first one to ever do this sort of thing."

"I'm not sure that's going to convince Octavia the way it convinces you."

"No, probably not." He sighs. "It's in a month. I'll send you the details, okay?"

"Sounds good. And Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck."

"Thanks." He closes his eyes and pictures what his life will look like in a month, but it's fuzzy around the edges. Like he's too far away for it to slide into focus. "I think I'm gonna need it."

* * *

The ceremony itself is surreal, to say the least. Octavia is glaring from the audience, which feels like a bad omen, and Miller has to work pretty hard not to burst out laughing several times during the recitations and officiant's speech.

And his wife-- his _wife_ , which is the most surreal part of all-- is not exactly what he expected.

The last serious relationship Bellamy had was with Gina, who was pure and sweet and good-humored. Even though they ultimately didn't last, that's the kind of person he saw himself with. Someone to draw light out of him when, left to his own devices, he would tend toward darker moods.

Clarke doesn't really fit inside that box.

His first thought on seeing her walk toward him down the aisle, on her mother's arm, was that he wouldn't want to try to take her in a fight.

Sure, she looked perfectly polished, from her pristine gown to her pearl necklace to her golden curls. The only imperfection in her whole facade was the brittle smile affixed to her face. Behind it, her eyes were sharp. Wary, whether of him or the show or the institution of marriage in general, he didn't get the opportunity to find out before they were saying ''I do" and sliding rings onto each other's fingers.

The kiss they'd exchanged was more than the perfunctory peck he had planned. In a last-ditch effort to crack her armor, he'd slipped her a little bit of tongue, and though she made a quiet, startled noise, she hadn't drawn back. Instead, she'd pressed closer, threaded her hand in his hair and kissed him like she _meant_ it.

They were both grinning when they pulled away, cutting it shorter than he would have liked since her mother, his sister, and an entire film crew were in attendance, and the flash of challenge he saw in her eyes was the first genuine thing he'd gotten from her all night.

"Want to dance, Princess?"

"No thanks, pumpkin," she shoots right back. Bellamy hides his grin in his flute of champagne. Despite his own reservations about the whole experiment, he _likes_ this woman.

"Afraid I'll embarrass you?"

She snorts. "I'm more concerned for my own reputation if my dancing is televised. Guys have it easy. All they have to do is put their hands on a girl's hips and sway."

"And all girls have to do is sway their hips." He raises an eyebrow. "I've got a decent sense of rhythm. Follow my lead and I promise I won't let you make a fool of yourself."

She studies him carefully. "I'm not very good at following someone else's lead."

He lets his grin off its leash.

"Just this once. You can have the lead on something during the honeymoon in exchange. Snorkeling, maybe. I'm not an experienced snorkler."

Her lips curl upward, the beauty mark above her lip drawing his eye with the movement. "I can think of one or two other honeymoon activities I'd rather take the lead in."

Bellamy lets out a surprised laugh and stands, extending his hand to her. "Whatever the hell you want, Princess. You in or out?"

She lets him squirm, but only for a moment before she's kicking off her heels and letting him pull her onto the dance floor. "In."

"Brave Princess."

"You don't know the half of it."

He keeps her hand and pulls her close, his other hand finding her lower back as they begin to sway side to side. A respectable position for two newlyweds who have only just met, he hopes. It's not like there's a lot of guidance for this.

The back of his neck prickles with the sensation of being watched. Being gawked at, like they're some sort of exhibit in a museum.

"You ever think about backing out?" He asks, low enough the mic on his jacket won't pick it up.

She hums and sidles closer, until her face is tucked against his jaw, her lips right at his ear. "Sometimes."

"What made you go through with it?"

For a moment it's just the music crooning from the speakers, and then she says, "You know that episode of Friends where Rachel has had shitty luck with dating, so she decides to let Monica make all of her romantic decisions?"

"Yeah." The corner of his mouth ticks up. "I think so."

"That's kind of where I'm at. I've had a string of bad dating luck, and I figured-- maybe it was time to try something new."

"Our culture considers arranged marriage fairly antiquated."

"New to me, then." She pauses. "What about you?"

He wets his lips, wondering how open he wants to be so soon. But they're _married_. Openness is how this works, right?

"I miss having a family," he says at last. "My mom passed a while back, and my sister moved away last year, and-- I'm not really good at dating? I've really only dated seriously once, everything else being hookups because I had to take care of Octavia, so-- yeah, i don't know. It was appealing to skip past the part I'm not good at to the part I might be better at."

"Because marriage is so much easier than dating."

Bellamy laughs and pinches her side. She presses closer with a soft yelp.

"Fine, so I'll be bad at it in a different way."

"Sounds great." She bumps her chin on his shoulder, her lips brushing his skin in easy affection despite having only met him a few hours prior. "Can't wait to discover all the new and exciting ways this will suck."

And it's nothing like Gina would have said. Gina would have pointed out the bright side, or said something about how they'll work through it together. That's not who Clarke is, and for all it's off-putting, it's also pretty nice. Nice to feel understood, nice that they have similar senses of humor, terrible as they may be.

Nice in a way he didn't know it could be.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Can't wait."

* * *

While sucking at marriage was mostly a joke, they really aren't great at it. Not at first, anyway.

Clarke wasn't joking when she said she likes to take the lead, which gets tricky when Bellamy doesn't back down from his own opinion of how things should be done. The way she takes control can be _awesome_ , like when the producers try to stir up unnecessary extra drama between them, or when his sister tries to dodge his calls until he agrees to the divorce. And he finds it hot as hell in the bedroom, happy to let Clarke take the lead and tell him exactly what she wants.

But it takes a while for them to figure out each other's strengths. For him to realize she's better with the financial details than he is, and he doesn't have to micromanage their budget. For her to find out that he's the better negotiator when it comes to getting their new landlord to fix the heating without extra time and cost.

Once they do figure out when to step up and when to back off, it's like they just _click_. Never in his life has Bellamy been so in synch with someone, trusted them so instinctively. It's frightening and wonderful all at once.

"This should be weirder, right?" He asks one night, when her legs are tangled with his, her fingers rubbing gently at his scalp while they both catch their breath and come down from their highs.

"What, the sex? It could be a lot weirder. I've been pretty open about my kinks, but if you--"

"Not sex," he says, huffing a laugh and letting his hand find her thigh, feeling her pulse throb against his palm. "Marriage. To a stranger."

"Oh." Her hand stills so he nudges her with his head until she picks it up again, laughing gently. "I don't know. I trust science, but I don't know if this would work for just anybody."

He hums, letting his eyes fall closed.

"I'm really glad it's working out for us, though," she adds in a small voice. Bellamy rolls over and kisses her shoulder, her neck, her lips.

"I wasn't complaining. I was-- marveling."

Clarke smiles and kisses him again and Bellamy lets himself sink into it this time. It's not a kiss that will lead anywhere, or a kiss to say anything in particular. It's closeness, and warmth, and everything he was skeptical of finding.

"I'm glad it's working out too," she says, ruffling his hair before scooting out from under him. "I'm starved and I have to pee. You want a snack?"

"Is that your way of asking if I'll fix you something?" He teases, pulling on the jeans he'd shucked and his glasses before heading to the kitchen.

"I was offering to make _you_ something."

"Oh, so quesadillas."

"I resent that." She comes out of their bedroom in one of his shirts and it takes all he has in him not to drag her back to the bed right then and there. "I could also make grilled cheese."

"My bad, I didn't realize your repertoire was so extensive."

"Clearly," she sniffs, poking around in the fridge. "So what'll it be?"

"Quesadillas sound perfect."

She beams, giving him a casual peck as she passes on her way to the stove.

"They do, don't they?"

* * *

A week before the season finale, the point at which they have to decide whether to stay married or break it off, they get in a huge fight.

It's no one's fault, really. Their schedules haven't been aligning well, Clarke working late hours in the ER while Bellamy takes a lot of early mornings for the trial he has next week. They keep missing each other, and so the little things-- the petty annoyances, the contradictory habits they keep-- begin to build and build and build.

Until they break.

They're on the way to Clarke's mother's house for one of Marcus's work parties when the tension bubbles over. She'd snapped at him for getting home late from work and he'd snapped back about not wanting to go to the stupid thing in the first place after a week like he's had, and the entire car ride had been a silent, frigid affair.

The light from the cameras in the car glint in the mirrors every time Clarke takes a turn, and it only sets him more on edge. He's really damn tired of the reality show invading their space, too. It's not helping his mood one bit.

Clarke doesn't even speak when they arrive at the house. True silence fills the space between them when she turns the car off, and it almost seems like she's going to say something, but then she just purses her lips angrily and opens her door.

He follows her lead and is halfway up the drive before he realizes she hasn't followed. That she's still standing by the car, toying with the keys nervously.

"What's the holdup?" He calls, taking a few steps back toward her.

He can practically see her hackles rise, her walls go up.

"I don't know if I can do this."

His stomach drops.

"Do what?" He asks, too aware of the cameras on him. Of the way her statement sounds like it's about something bigger than just a party.

"I can't go in there and pretend everything is okay. Feel everyone thinking _I told you so_ when they see--" she gestures between them lamely.

"Well, don't do it on my account. It's not my stepfather's work friends. And it's not--" He exhales harshly. "Don't stay with me just because you're afraid of being wrong."

"That's not what this is about." Her gaze hardens. "Why would you even say something like that? What's wrong with you tonight?"

"What's wrong with me?" He laughs, cold and incredulous. "You're the one who picked a fight the minute I walked in the door!"

"Don't blame this all on me! You were more than ready to have it out with me. I'm not the only asshole here."

"Well maybe if you'd been home for more than nine hours at a time this week, we could have actually had a mature conversation about this instead of screaming at each other in your parents' driveway!"

Her eyes narrow. "You don't want to do this here? Fine." She storms around to the driver's side and opens the door, vicious. "I don't want to do it at all. Find another way home."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Bellamy doesn't know what his face is doing as he watches her drive away from him, but he's sure he'll see it played back several times in whatever episode this makes it into. He lets out a long, angry breath and opens his phone.

He and Clarke aren't all that different. It's not like he wants to face her family in this state any more than she does, and even as mad as he is, he doesn't want to make her look bad in front of them when she's not there to defend herself.

So he orders an Uber and waits for it in the cold, refusing to look at the cameras for the entirety of the long ride back to the house.

Clarke's car isn't out front when he gets there, all the windows dark and only the porch light on like she likes to have it at night.

"I think you have enough footage," he tells Monty, his favorite of the camera guys, and he shrugs, switching the device off and lowering it.

"You moping isn't all that interesting," he agrees, patting Bellamy awkwardly on the shoulder. "Sorry you guys fought. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think it's over between you."

"Thanks. I'm gonna--" He gestures toward the bedroom and Monty nods.

"Go for it. We'll hang out in the living room for a couple of hours, see if she comes back."

"Do you have to?"

"Pretty much. If you guys skip straight to the makeup sex, just put a sock on the door or something."

"She'd have to be here for us to make up, so--"

"She'll be back," he says, confident. "I have a good feeling about you guys."

"Thanks."

When he goes into the bedroom, he tosses his coat in the chair like he always does, but this time it hits something with a thump. Something that jolts and goes, "Ow," and sniffles.

He just about jumps out of his skin.

"What the--" He switches on a light and finds Clarke curled up in the armchair, still in her party clothes, her eyes red-rimmed and furious. "I thought--"

"Shh. I don't want--" She bites her lip. "I parked around the corner and climbed in the window. I'm sick of the show feeling like they're entitled to every part of our lives. And--" she pauses, drops her gaze, picks at a loose thread in her sweater. "I felt like this might go better without an audience."

The floor drops out from under him and Bellamy sits on the bed with a weary sigh.

So she does want to end it.

Shit.

"Go ahead," he says, running a hand through his hair. "I assume you have a speech planned."

"You're the speech-maker," she says, smiling small and sad. "I just-- I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," he says, defeated. For this to work they both have to want it to. He doesn't want to try with someone who won't try just as hard, or so he tells himself.

"I just-- left you there."

"With a camera crew and a cell phone and your mother thirty yards away. I mean, I'm pissed, but-- I'm fine, Clarke."

"I wasn't fair to you. You've been-- so great--"

Suddenly he feels sick. He doesn't want her to rip the band-aid off. He just wants to leave it, to pretend the wound isn't even there in the first place.

"You don't have to do this."

"I do. I treated you badly, and you deserve more than me being a jerk for no reason."

"You had plenty of reason."

"Okay." She smiles with half her mouth. "But so did you."

"Listen, I really don't-- I don't need to hear this, okay? It's not working for you. You don't have to explain yourself to me. I get it."

She frowns now. "You think it's not working?"

"It always felt too easy, right?" He shrugs, trying not to fall apart. He didn't know he'd be this disappointed. Hadn't realized how much he'd invested himself in this. In them. "If you need out-- I'm not going to stop you."

"Oh," she breathes, a look crossing her countenance he can't quite place.

Then she's moving next to him on the bed, taking his hand in hers and giving him those earnest eyes that get him every time.

"I don't need out. I don't _want_ out, I'm not trying to break up with you, Bellamy. I'm just trying to apologize for the way I've acted tonight. This whole week, really. I've been stressed about work, and-- I don't know, I've missed you. Is that weird?"

"Not weird," he exhales, relieved. He pulls her in with one arm and kisses her hair. "I've missed you too. We were both just in shitty moods and we took it out on each other."

"Let's try not to do that again."

"Yeah, I've met us. I think it's fair to say it might be a steep learning curve."

She laughs into his shoulder and they sit like that, just breathing each other in, for a long moment.

"When I told my sister about the show," Bellamy starts, feeling now like he wants to apologize too, "she said I'd stay married just because I'm stubborn and competitive. To be clear-- I don't think you'd stay with me just because you don't like to be wrong. You're not like that, and it was an awful thing to say. But I know you're stubborn and competitive too, and I guess I didn't realize how I was worried that we would try too hard to make a bad thing last. That we wouldn't know when to call it."

She stiffens against him.

"Do you think we should call it?"

"No," he says, reflexively pulling her tighter. "I want to fight for us."

"Good." She kisses his chest. "Me too."

They sit there for another long moment and then Bellamy sighs.

"I don't want you to get a bad rep on the show for not coming home. One of us should go tell them." He draws back, catches her eye. "Rock paper scissors?"

"Nah." She stands and extends her hand to him just like he had at their wedding reception. "Let's go together."

He takes her hand.

"Together."

* * *

The clip of their fight gets played several times in the drawn-out work-up to announcing their choice in the finale. Despite the drama of the show and the skepticism that still lurks in their friends and families' eyes, particularly after seeing such a scene play out, Bellamy's decision never wavers.

"So what do you say, Clarke?" Jaha finally asks, after what feels like an excessive amount of interviews. "Do you want to stay married to Bellamy, or do you want a divorce?"

With a serene smile that only barely masks the real one underneath, Clarke reaches across and takes Bellamy's hand, lacing their fingers together tight.

"Stay married," she says without fanfare.

"You seem quite certain."

"It's an easy choice. In fact, it's the only choice that makes sense to me."

"Only choice," Bellamy echoes, squeezing her hand. "That's an oxymoron."

"You're an oxymoron."

"Good one." He kisses her lightly on the lips, because she looks so beautiful when she's smug about her own joke, and when he turns back to Jaha, he's watching them with a pleased expression on his face.

"Well, it looks like we've got everything we need. Unless there's anything you'd like to add."

"Nope," Bellamy says, and squeezes Clarke's hand. "I think that about covers it."


End file.
